


'Darling.'

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, Major Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on the final moments of Bill Haydon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Darling.'

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Liebling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/657175) by [eurydike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydike/pseuds/eurydike)



             "Darling."

             "Don't call me that."

             The man's head snapped up at the harshness in the other's voice, and shivering, drew his overcoat closer around his pyjamas in a futile attempt to ward off the cold night air.  "Darling, please.  You're be-"

             "I _said_  don't call me that."  Jim Prideaux's voice crackled with the kind of muted energy that hummed around fully charged electrodes.  He stood over the other man quietly for several moments, before finally spitting words in the other man's face.  "You _bastard_."

             For a moment, a flicker of something like regret flashed across Bill Haydon's face, and he suddenly looked much older than he was - or perhaps, Jim thought, he finally looked his age - it had been so long that he wasn't really sure.

             "I got you _out,_  Jim."

             There it was.

             He had known that he would have to hear those words, but all the same, a jolt of pain shot through him, sending white-hot sparks along his nerve-endings.  "Yes."  He decided to acknowledge that, but only with his own addition: "But for what?  A personal _favour_?"  He stopped short, reigning himself in for a moment, only to quietly add, "I _defended_  you, Bill.  I _warned_  you."

             Bill Haydon said nothing, his expression frozen in a sort of pained, half-grimace, the only movement at these words being a slight tic at the corner of his mouth.  Finally, Jim asked the one thing that the other had hoped he would not, his voice barely audible over the rustling of wind through grounded leaves.

             "How long?"

             For the first time, Bill Haydon hesitated, and Jim repeated the question, his voice clear, but underscored by a tightly controlled emotion that lent a sense of urgency.  It was to this that he responded, much as he always had.

             He responded simply, with a year, but not the one that Jim had been prepared for.  The simple honesty of the response, more so than the knowledge, hit him with the force of a bullet.

             "Say that again."

             Bill Haydon repeated himself.

             "You're lying."

             At this, the other man looked almost hurt.  "Would I lie to you?"

             There was a sudden clenching in Jim's chest at that expression, and his words came out between clenched teeth.  "I don't know, Bill.   _Would_ you?"

             Bill Haydon didn't say anything, but refused to look at the other man.

             "Did I even ever _know_  you?"  There was something strained about Jim's voice, as if he was close to breaking, kept intact only by a lingering bitterness that hung in the back of his throat and threatened to strangle his vocal chords.  "Was _anything_  real, Bill?  Or was I just like all the others?"

             When Bill Haydon opened his mouth, Jim cut him off.  "Anyone else might have wondered when _Toby_  was sent to debrief me."  He laughed, and the other man winced at the sharpness of the sound.  "Hell, even George thought it strange that you never snuck over and visited me."

             "You were in quarantine, Jim."

             "That didn't stop you tonight."

             There was no argument for that.  His breath streaming in front of him in an icy plume, he shivered, both from the temperature and reflexively as Jim sat down on the bench next to him.  "No.  No it didn't."

             Deliberately not turning his head, Bill Haydon studied the other man out of the corner of his eye, noting to himself that the effects of the last several years were far more visible in his friend's face than he would have liked to imagine.  There was a long silence between them before he finally spoke up.  "Why did you come, Jim?"

             There was a pause as Jim collected his thoughts, his arm stretching over the back of the bench unconsciously, out of habit, and then: "I had to know."

             Bill Haydon laughed bitterly.  "About what?  If what George said was true?"

             Jim was unmoved.  "About if you were ever the man I knew."

             "And."

             Jim's reply was only barely audible as he stood up.  "I don't know, Bill."

             Almost instinctively, Bill Haydon reached out and took the other man's hand in his, only to be surprised when, rather than pulling away, Jim laid his other hand on his shoulder.

             "I almost wish you hadn't come, Jim."

             "Why's that?"

             "I would have preferred that you never have to doubt me."

             There was a long silence, then: "So would I."

             Ten minutes later, Bill Haydon was alone, his head tilted oddly to one side, looking, from a distance, as if he were sleeping.


End file.
